


Aggressive Flirtation

by itsjustthetenthdoctor



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Pottertalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjustthetenthdoctor/pseuds/itsjustthetenthdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, Alfred was excited for the Triwizard Tournament - if only because it would give him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to flirt with some beautiful French witches.</p>
<p>But then HE had to show up, flaunting that silver hair and those stupid, chiseled cheekbones -</p>
<p>"Look, you attractive bastard -"</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>(Based off of cidershark's lovely Pottertalia comic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aggressive Flirtation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this beautiful piece o' work](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/91133) by cidershark. 



> i hope you enjoy!

          Alfred was  _very_ excited for the Triwizard Tournament. It was his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was determined to go out with a bang.

          He was going to woo a Beauxbaton witch.

          Alfred admired the girls of Beauxbaton’s Academy of Magic for their grace, poise, and beauty - and so did many of the boys at Hogwarts. He’d get down on his knees and beg one of them to give him the time of day (that is, if he didn’t have at least his own body weight in pride). They were all so lovely, so confident, so  _French_.

          Yes, he was sure he could find at least one.

          Then  _he_  showed up, with his army of huge lumberjacks with their fur coats and their  _accents_.

          He soon learned that, not only had Beauxbaton’s Academy been invited to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, but so had the notorious Durmstrang’s Institute.

          Alfred wasn’t positive of the location of the institute, but when the burly, fur-covered men came marching into the Great Hall, sparks at their feet and fire in their breath, he determined it was nowhere he could possibly want to be - nowhere like  _France_.

           _He_ was certainly not from France.

          Ivan Braginski was in every way a handsome man. Strong jaw, near-purple irises, and a small, confident smile - not to mention the fact that he was equipped with biceps built for crushing infants.

          Needless to say, Ivan pissed Alfred off. He was all smart and strong and buff and  _handsome_  -

          Alfred was so mad.

          It got even worse when he realized that a particular girl he’d taken an interest in (her name was Francoise) just  _loved_  to hang on the douchebag’s arm like he was a pole she wanted to climb. Alfred suddenly felt like he paled in comparison.

          It also didn’t help that Ivan seemed to be everywhere he looked. In the Great Hall, mocking him - in the library, criticizing him - in his potions class,  _better_ than him -

          Now, Ivan wasn’t actually standoffish in the least. He was simply minding his own business; probably hardly realized that Alfred even existed. But that thought just made Alfred angrier. He and Ivan had never spoken - never even engaged in eye contact, save for the accidental, awkward kind that happened whilst Alfred was mid-intense stare.

          Yet Alfred couldn’t shake off those stunning mauve eyes and the way they made him feel.

          Finally, Alfred allowed himself to admit that Ivan was just damn  _good-looking_. There was no helping it. Girls and guys fell at his feet, swooned at his accent. When Alfred was new, he'd gotten the same treatment, being the only American to attend Hogwarts.

          But Ivan was a  _novelty_ , only available for a short amount of time. Alfred had been a stitch in the school's side for six whole years.

          During those six years, people noticed that their American addition had a tendency to act before he thought much about what he was doing.

          He was trailing behind Ivan and a gaggle of witches, all of whom were giggling at some culturally-ignorant remark the boy had just made ( _You give gifts before the baby is born? What strange people you are._ ) when Alfred got the “brilliant” idea.

           _I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind._

          There was absolutely no justification for a confrontation with the Durmstrang boy; not to any normally functioning human being. But Alfred, being…  _Alfred_ , considered the boy’s continued existence offensive. This was justification enough.

          “I really must go to the library today. I apologize, ladies, but I cannot see you to your rooms tonight. Travel safely,  _ispravny_?”

          The girls gave one more chorus of giggles and dispersed, giving him shy goodbyes on their way, and Alfred saw a golden opportunity.

          He quickly followed the other boy down a quiet, rather deserted hall, snow flurries blowing in gently from the windows - but Alfred cared not for the serenity of the space.

          “ _Hey!_ ”

          Ivan stopped in his tracks, pausing for a moment before turning on his heel and quirking an eyebrow at the blur of yellow, black, red and gold rapidly approaching. “May I help you?”

_He’s so buff, you can see his arm muscles through his sleeves and his pecs through his dumb sweater vest - his stupid hair is all tousled from the wind, Jesus - look at those dumb, vibrant eyes, all sparkly with his dumb arrogance -_

          “Look, you attractive bastard -”

_Oh._

          He had his finger pointed in a half-assed threat to the other boy’s face, his cheeks heating in embarrassment as the weight of his words hit him like a brick.

          “Uh -  _fuck,_  I mean - that wasn’t -”

          The corner of Ivan’s mouth tilted upward in a smirk, which just made Alfred’s situation much worse. “Pardon me,  _krasotka_?”

           “Gesundheit,” Alfred choked out, chewing his lip nervously - a bad habit he took on during childhood. “I meant you…  _regular_  bastard - completely  _un-noteworthy_  bastard, not even slightly pretty - or, or  _handsome_ , for that matter -”

          Ivan’s smirk only grew. “Were you marching over to tell me something, or are you going to stumble over how…  _unattractive_  I am for the rest of the evening?”

          Alfred felt as though his face may melt from his skull, his blush travelling all the way to the tips of his ears. “I-I was going to -”

          “Are those freckles?”

          Alfred was startled to find that the significantly taller boy was suddenly right in front of him, a gloved hand reaching out to rest tenderly on his cheek.

          “I do not see much of those where I come from. Not enough sun. Rather dull, really.”

          Alfred’s eyes darted about, looking anywhere but into the lavender pools examining him so intensely. “There’s - uhm, not that it’s any of your business, but, uh - th-there’s plenty of, of sun, where I come from, y’know, in California -”

          “Yes, I have discovered much about you,” Ivan muttered, his thumb stroking Alfred’s pink-tinged cheekbone. “I had to learn more about the boy who was so intent upon staring at me day after day.”

          Alfred sputtered, feeling thrown terribly out of his element - terribly  _overwhelmed_. “Well - well quit snooping, asshole! I know your game!”

          Ivan blinked owlishly. “Game?”

          “Yeah, you - you arrogant bastard! You’re one of  _those_  guys, all mysterious, got all the girls fawning over you like some - some really good-looking piece of meat -”

          Ivan snorted, his hand drifting down under Alfred’s chin, lifting his head only the slightest bit. “Funny, I didn’t take you for the… jealous kind.”

          Alfred’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he struggled to stutter some kind of response. “Wh-what? I - I am  _not_  jealous of some  _girls_  -”

          He suddenly found himself trapped against a cold stone wall and a hot guy, Ivan’s arms boxing him in, their breath mingling. “Wh-what’re you -”

          “You’ll be pleased to know that none of them are my… how you say,  _type_.”

          Alfred finally made eye contact with the other boy, swallowing thickly and trying not to crumble under his smoldering stare.

          “I do, however, have what may be referred to as a “thing” for blond boys with freckles.”

          And, all too quickly, he was being kissed, his nails digging into the jagged rock behind him, and  _his lips are way softer than they look_  -

          His hands moved slowly from the wall to Ivan’s chest, at first intending to push him away, but then Ivan tilted his head and Alfred  _liked it_  and he was  _clutching_  the other boy’s fur coat, pulling him closer, his hands slithering up to lace around his neck.

         There was a gentle lick to his closed lips, and the blond jumped, a deep chuckle sounding from Ivan’s throat.

         And then Ivan’s warm body was gone, and Alfred felt supremely disappointed, but relieved and confused all in the same moment. “I - you -”

          “I’ll see you in the common room tonight, yes?” Ivan whispered, and Alfred gave a breathless nod. “We can…  _chat_.”

          Before Alfred could properly process the invitation, Ivan was five steps down the hallway, and Alfred was abruptly aware of how cold he had been before he experienced the other boy's enjoyable body heat.

          He stumbled back the way he came, feeling awkward and yet very aroused, but made it to the common room in one piece.

          If anyone noticed the hickeys on his neck the next day, they never said a thing.


End file.
